The Disappearance of Ens. Bill Musgrove, USN
The Disappearance of Ens. Bill Musgrove. USN
A Short, True Story
By B.E. Smith
Bill Musgrove was my classmate at Rice and we had graduated and been commissioned in the Navy at the same time, June 1, 1956. We attended flight school together in Pensacola, Fl. and Corpus Christi, TX and coincidentally were assigned to All Weather Attack Squadron 35 (VAAW 35) after we got our wings and graduated from flight school. Bill married Mary Ellen Phelan from Beaumont, Texas after we graduated. They had one child, Pete, who was about 3 months old on April 30, 1958. (Pete is now a lawyer in Houston, Texas). Harriet and I knew both Bill and Mary Ellen quite well and we sometimes double dated while at Rice.
Bill was a good guy, ambitious, smart, and confident. He was a good pilot. About two weeks before April 30, Bill and I went out in in a flight of two planes together. It was our first flight without a more senior officer leading the flight. Bill had the squadron flight surgeon in his right seat who went along just for fun. We flew down the coast towards LA and across the mountains, very low, over to Palm Springs. I remember flying just over the tops of the palm trees. It was a great flight which we ended with some acrobatics out over the ocean—mainly showing off for the flight surgeon. Everything went well on the flight and Bill and I both were ecstatic about it when we got back to the squadron ready room.
On April 30, 1958, Bill Musgrove and Ltjg Richard Smith took off from NAS North Island at 2:40 pm in two AD Skyraiders. They each had one air crewman flying in the right seat with them. Bill’s plane had a call sign of Camel Driver 872. Take off was normal in good weather. The two planes headed on a course of 200 towards the southwest where they were scheduled to perform radar intercepts with two ships who had requested their services.
About 30 minutes into the flight, Bill’s plane began to experience power failure at about 7500 feet of altitude. Bill was in communication with his flight leader, LTJG Smith and with the two ships. When the plane lost so much power (down to 17” of manifold pressure where normal was around 30”), it could no longer sustain altitude and began to descend.
Bill discussed alternative emergency measures with the flight leader and with his air crewmen, whom he had not known before the flight started. The aircrew was Roland Segal, Petty Officer 3rd Class who was assigned to VAAW 35 as a parachute rigger. He had been on one 8-month cruise with the squadron and was a reasonably experienced aircrew.
The flight leader, Richard Smith and Segal both recommended to Bill that they parachute out of the plane. Both pilot and aircrew had a parachute and one-man raft and were somewhat trained in bailout procedures.
The recommended procedure was to ditch the aircraft as close to one of the ships as possible with both men still on board. Bill gave the order for Segal to bailout. He opened his canopy turned to his right, stood on the edge of his seat and rolled head first out of the plane. He opened his chute normally and when he landed in the ocean, he inflated his raft and got into it where he stayed until he was picked up by the USS Los Angeles about 4 hours later. (Water in the Pacific is very cold even that far South, about 58 degrees F.)
Bill was never seen or heard from again! His plane had entered a cloud layer at about 4000 feet and his flight leader lost sight of him in the clouds. The accident report stated that something was seen to leave the pilot’s side of the plane after the air crewman bailed out but Bill was never sighted again and no sign of survival gear or plane wreckage was ever found.
The accident did report that his plane was later seen near the surface of the ocean. It made three circles and headed on a course of 120 towards the Baja, Mexico coast. It was not determined whether the plane was manned or not. (This information comes directly from the official U. S. Navy Accident Report.)
This was a Wednesday afternoon and I was home enjoying the afternoon off. About 4:30 I got a call from Jim Jolin, another pilot in our squadron, who was at the squadron about 2 miles from our apartment.
“Get over here right now,” Jim said to me.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Just get on over here right now.”
I got over to the squadron and Jim, along with two other officers, were in the Executive Officer’s office. I went in and they told me that Bill’s plane was down and they were starting a search immediately. The Exec had learned that I was a classmate of Bill’s and he asked if I and Harriet would go to Bill’s apartment just a few blocks from us in Coronado, inform Mary Ellen of the accident, and stay with her until Bill was found. I called Harriet and she arranged a baby sitter for Clay with our neighbor who lived in the other garage apartment at 808 D in Coronado.
This was a difficult assignment but at the time, I fully expected that Bill would be rescued. However, night was quickly approaching and the thought of spending the night on a one-man raft in the Pacific 100 miles from land was not at all appealing.
I told Mary Ellen what had happened and she was shocked but maintained her composure. She offered us iced tea and we sat down to wait for further word. Pete was asleep in his crib. Clay, aged 8 months, was unaware of our problem back at the apartment. I optimistically assured Mary Ellen of my belief that he would soon be rescued and have many stories to tell us about the incident.
The Navy carried out a substantial air and sea search in the vicinity of Bill’s last known presence. No signs of a crash or survival equipment were found. After a week, Bill was presumed lost at sea and pronounced dead.
Mary Ellen’s father, a big, omni-present Texan from Beaumont, Texas showed up at Mary Ellen’s apartment to be with her and help if he could. He wore Texas cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. He weighed in at 300 lbs. or so. He was purported to have millions which he made in the grocery business in Beaumont.
When the Navy gave up the search, Mary’s father hired a Mexican light charter plane to continue searching along the Baja peninsula. Ltjg. Jack W. Wilbern and I went along on two of those flights flying low over the beach along the coast of Baja almost all the way down to the southern tip of the peninsula. We saw no signs of wreckage or survival gear and certainly no Bill Musgrove.
Within a couple of weeks, the squadron was back to normal. I never saw Mary Ellen again but I talked to Pete once when we lived in Virginia while he was attending the University of Virginia for undergraduate school.
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